“I believe it is,” said Richard, though with unchanging face. His eyes, however, were perplexed and tormented. “Of course you do. Of course you do,” said Kangaroo softly. “But you are the most obstinate little devil and child that ever opposed a wise man like me. For example, don’t you love me in your heart of hearts, only you daren’t admit it? I know you do. I know you do. But admit it, man, admit it, and the world will be a bigger place to you. You are afraid of love.” Richard was more and more tormented in himself. “In a way, I love you, Kangaroo,” he said. “Our souls are alike somewhere. But it is true I don’t _want_ to love you.” And he looked in distress at the other man. Kangaroo gave a real little laugh. “Was ever woman so coy and hard to please!” he said, in a warm, soft voice. “Why don’t you want to love me, you stiff-necked and uncircumcised Philistine? Don’t you want to love Harriet, for example?” “No, I don’t want to love anybody. Truly. It simply makes me frantic and murderous to have to feel loving any more.” “Then why did you come to me this morning?” The question was pertinent. Richard was baffled. “In a way,” he said vaguely, “because I love you. But love makes me feel I should die.” “It is your wilful refusal of it,” said Kangaroo, a little wearily. “Put your hand on my throat, it aches a little.” He took Richard’s hand and laid it over his warm, damp, sick throat, there the pulse beat so heavy and sick, and the Adam’s apple stood out hard. “You must be still now,” said Lovat, gentle like a physician. “Don’t let me die!” murmured Kangaroo, almost inaudible, looking into Richard’s muted face. The white, silent face did not change, only the blue-grey eyes were abstract with thought. He did not answer. And even Kangaroo dared not ask for an answer. At last he let go Richard’s hand from his throat. Richard withdrew it, and wanted to wipe it on his handkerchief. But he refrained, knowing the sick man would notice. He pressed it very secretly, quietly, under his thigh, to wipe it on his trousers. “You are tired now,” he said softly. “Yes.” “I will tell the nurse to come?” “Yes.” “Good-bye--be better,” said Richard sadly, touching the man’s cheek with his finger-tips slightly. Kangaroo opened his eyes with a smile that was dark as death. “Come again,” he whispered, closing his eyes once more. Richard went blindly to the door. The nurse was there waiting. Poor Richard, he went away almost blinded with stress and grief and bewilderment. Was it true what Kangaroo had said? Was it true? Did he, Richard, love Kangaroo? Did he love Kangaroo, and deny it? And was the denial just a piece of fear? Was it just fear that made him hold back from admitting his love for the other man?